Tension
by Mastermind Sphinx
Summary: UPDATED March 2007! Beast Wars fic, Dinobot and Rattrap centric, slash YAOI warning. Will the rat and the raptor ever learn to get along? And what are Terrosaur and Waspinator plotting against Megatron? Hmm... Intruiging summary, I know. Not.
1. Chapter 1

"The extremity of your incompetence is unfathomable, vermin!"

"Hey! It wasn't my fault I too was distracted by your nasty smell to notice the Preds. Eh, I'm surprised your stank didn't put me into stasis lock hours ago, lizard lips!"

It was childish and immature, the way that they treated each other, like playground puppy love where "you have cooties" equates to "I think you're cute." Only, in their case it was "you're stinky"-"I like you."

Perhaps, at one point and time, the pair's verbal stabs had been sincere, but if they were they hadn't remained that way for very long. It was obvious to the Maximals that the raptor and the rat held some degree, however minor, of affection for one another other. Why else would each invest so much time and heated emotion in the other? Hatred was not represented in such a way, Rattrap and Dinobot knew that, regardless if either would ever admit it.

People who truly hate one another tend to gravitate towards avoidance, or awkward silence when together. Dinobot and Rattrap were rarely _not _working together, and they were most definitely never silent.

"I am impressed that you can smell anything over your own nauseating own odor, cheese lips!"

"I'm a rat, what's your excuse? Next to you I smell like a bed of roses!"

"The only way that you could smell anything even vaguely approaching the realm of tolerable, rodent, is if you were a rotting carcass! Because that stench would at least carry good news with it."

"If you hate it so much, why not do us both a favor and go slag yourself, Dino-butt!"

Optimus simply rubbed his temple with a resigned sigh. It would seem that those two were absolutely hopeless, but he knew better. It had been a rather slow realization, but somewhere along the line the gorilla-bot had begun to nurse suspicions of there being something between his comrades. Perhaps he'd been cooped up on the primitive planet for a little too long and was getting his circuits crossed, but Optimus was fairly certain that there had to be _something _there.

The signs weren't particularly overt, and the casual observer would likely not notice them at all, but as the leader of the Maximals it was his job to be aware of the inconspicuities of his crewmember's actions. Furtive little nuances, such as the fact that neither really let anyone else get away with calling them degrading names so easily. And it was the truth that they casually touched one another more so than anyone else in the base did. Simple little things such as hands on shoulders when one was injured, or the way that Dinobot would sometimes help Rattrap compensate for his vertical problem, without ever chastising him for it. . .

And yes, Optimus realized, the main thing about their dynamic that spoke of something other than hatred between them was the fact that neither really ever aimed for nerves that mattered. Sure, Rattrap would freely question Dinobot's loyalty to the Maximals, but the ex-Predacon did that enough himself to make the subject a fairly open one. Rattrap never, however, insulted his honor, likewise Dinobot never intentionally tried to prod any of the rat's sensitive wounds.

Though a little immature, neither bot could possibly be dumb enough to think that their silly jabs actually hurt one another. It was that that first caught Primal's attention and caused him to be more aware. As best he could figure, Rattrap initially started bickering with Dinobot to relieve his real tension and apprehensions of having a Predacon join their ranks. The ex-Predacon had merely retaliated. And this pattern had continued even after they'd come to be friends because, Optimus theorized, neither simply knew of any other way to deal.

Dinobot had been a Predacon for all of his existence, and quite obviously was very unsavvy in the department of interpersonal relationships. Likely, he knew no other way to communicate beyond challenging others and shouting-matches. Rattrap was no prime example of a communication expert himself, just a more personable loner. These facts did little to show promise of a peaceful relationship upon the horizon.

"Come back and say that to my face you slaggin' saurian!" The small bot yelled as he chased down the corridor after his reluctant-comrade.

"Hey Big Bot," Optimus was brought out of his thoughts by his young protégé's voice.

"Yes Cheetor?"

"Do you think those two will ever stop?" The wave of a spotted paw indicated the now empty hallway.

With an exaggerated exhale, followed by a good-natured half-smile, he answered: "that's one arena where even I have the sense not to be too optimistic."

"But why do they hate each other so much? Dinobot's proven that he's on our side now; Rattrap needs to lighten up." Ah, good old Cheetor. Optimus couldn't help but smile. He knew that the young bot looked up to all of his teammates very much, Dinobot included, and just wanted everyone to get along.

"I really don't think that they do, Cheetor. Some people just have a harder time showing they care than others."

"Well, they could at least learn to not show it so violently," Rhinox, who'd been silent until then, interjected from where he was working across the room. "This is fourth computer consol they've broken this month. The second one this week!"

The Maximal leader sighed. The two could exchange jokes about one another's maternal-units till kingdom come for all he cared at this point, so long as they learned to stop half-demolishing the base every time that they did so. "It's true, they have been exceptionally destructive lately. . . Any ideas Maximals?"

"We could lock them in a room together and not let them out until they get along," Cheetor piped in, but was interrupted by Rhinox.

"Or until they slag each other. . . "The large green bot just shook his head grimly. "I think that locking them up together would be too dangerous—and not just for the base!"

"Well then, what are we going to do?"

While his teammates had been discussing the issue at hand, many ideas, none of which had born fruit, whizzed through the gorilla-bot's processor. What could be done about it? Obviously punishment, at least for destroying parts of the base, but that was a short-term solution to what had clearly evolved into a very long-term problem.

Suddenly, the monotonous voice spilled forth from the computer system, effectively capturing all of their attentions. "Warning, Predacon activity in sector Gamma, coordinates 330. Units Terrosaur and Waspinator."

"Psh," the cheetah dismissed the situation with a roll of his optics. "What else is new? Those two are always working over there."

"The Gamma system is pretty far away, better send in Airazor and Tigatron," Rhinox was just about to push the comnlink button when Optimus quickly stopped him.

"No, don't send them. I have a much better idea." As realization hit the other two, the Maximal trio shared in a collective smirk.

oOoOoOoOo

Short breaths snorted through his velociraptor nostrils. Chasing Rattrap about the base had given his fuel-pump quite a workout, one that he wasn't entirely appreciative of thanks to the newfound necessity for oxygen that his beast mode had inflicted upon him.

Now, sitting upon his cold steel bed, starring idly over at his clone's pelt on the wall next to his extra swords, Dinobot cursed the vermin for making him short of breath. Then, for good measure, cursed him again for all the times over the past few months that the Maximal had managed to put him in such a state without even trying. Without even moving, speaking, or even being present!

Lightly snarling Cybertronian curses to himself as he either shivered or trembled, Dinobot curled his beast form into a tight ball for warmth. Sometimes, he considered defecting from those he had defected to, simply for the higher temperatures of the Darkside. There were other reasons, certainly, to rejoin the Predacons aside from the climate. They were logical, and sometimes even honorable, reasons, yet there was something that kept him at the Axalon and under the Maximal's command. Or rather, someone, and that someone was also the current bane of his existence.

Rattrap had started it, really he had! If the rat had ignored him, acted pleasantly, or even if he'd been out rightly hostile Dinobot would have fared much better in dealing with him than he was now. This love hate, cat and mouse tug-o-war had been the small Maximal's game and the Predacon had simply played along.

Unfortunately though, there was no _magical _reset button, and certainly things couldn't go on as they had been for much longer. Dinobot's feelings were clouding his judgment, and his mind was often preoccupied when he needed his processors to be at 100. Simply put, Rattrap's effect upon him was lessening his abilities as a warrior.

_But how can things possibly change from what they have become, when they are so deeply set?_

"To the Pit with that vile Maximal rodent."

oOoOoOoOo

"Eh, stupid Dinobutt," the small bot mumbled as he licked at the mech-fluid that his short rat arm bled where Dinobot had managed to nick him with one of his claws. Nothing serious, but that was beside the point.

"Me and my big mouth. . ." Then snidely, "or should I say: my big mouth and I?" Lately Dinobot seemed to have been lack for anything else to chide him for and resorted to picking apart the rat's grammar.

Transforming into his robot form, Rattrap walked over to his dart board, which rather than a bull's eye sported an image of everyone's favorite ex-Predecon, and grabbed his darts. Throwing sharp objects at one's supposed enemy's face was always relaxing, at least is used to be. As the tension between them grew greater, the greater the outlet for such stress needed to be. Dart throwing simply wasn't cutting it any longer.

"Stupid," one dart thrown.

"Slaggin'," another whizzed across the room.

"Good. For. Nothing." Dart, dart, dart.

"Dinobot!" The last dart, the only one that had managed to hit the target, despite the fact that Rattrap was a very good shot, had landed square in the middle of the picture-Dinobot's torso-plate, right where his spark would be.

With a rather fed up "eh," the bot stuck his tongue out at the photograph, then plopped himself down upon his bed. _Slag him_, he thought to himself. Rattrap didn't know why he couldn't keep his mouth shut around the raptor, and save himself the trouble of fighting with him so much. Especially in light of the fact that he knew they had come to a point where the animosity was no longer real. . . No, that wasn't entirely true, he knew the reasons why.

The tension between them had evolved into a thick, nearly tangible thing and the only way the rat-bot knew how to keep himself from saying something that he'd really regret was to keep the conversation, if their arguments were worthy of such a term, going.

But he wondered sometimes, when lying alone at night and contemplating their turbulent situation, if avoidance was really the best way to deal with whatever it was between them. . . If he never managed to say the things that he knew he would regret, would he regret not saying them?

As he was about to make up his mind on the subject, a voice crackled through is comnlink. "Rattrap and Dinobot, report here immediately."

"Oh boy, just what I need now," he whined more to himself that to Optimus on the other end of the line. "More of Chopperface to brighten up my day."

oOoOoOoOo

It didn't take long for both to make it back to the bridge of the Axalon, making faces at one another as they came down the hall.

"What did you call us in here for?" The gravely growl was irritated, which was far from unusual.

Holding up his finger in a gesticulated scold, the Maximal leader harshly began: "You two have been very bad lately--destroying our base and its equipment--the Predacons do that well enough themselves, they don't need your help!. . . Thus you need to be punished." At least Rattrap had the tact to at least pretend to be a little ashamed. Dinobot merely glared at the rat.

"I agree, the rat's behavior is most obnoxious. Though as leader it is your duty to see out that he is penalized, Optimus Primal, I would not be opposed to administering the assuredly brutal sentence myself, were you not up to the task." A grin accompanied the words as Dinobot leered down at the rat.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Quickly came the screeched protest. "What makes you think this is all my fault? It's **you **who keeps lasering and stabbing the slag out of everything 'round here!"

"Nothing would be destroyed if **you **didn't keep dodging, cowardly mouse!"

Across the room Cheetor failed at suppressing a giggle.

"And what are you laughing at, fur ball?"

"I'm sorry," he snickered, "but there's something so Freudian about that—"from there the cat-bot's words faded into nothing but a long string of laughter.

Dinobot, the only one who probably even grasped the meaning of Cheetor's words, was far too furiously humiliated to question how in the Pit the cheetah even knew who Freud was. Mech-fluid flooded to his face plates, discoloring his cheeks.

Rattrap, for his part, was unfamiliar with whoever this Freud bot was, but he could tell that if the implications were bad enough to make old Dino_butt_ blush that it was pretty bad.

"Ey, Pussycat, I don't know what the Inferno you're talkin' about, but take it back or I'll beat those spots outta your sorry hide!"

That's enough!" Optimus interjected, just in time to keep things from getting interesting. "Dinobot, Rattrap, it takes two to tango." The mention of dancing enhanced both the cat's laughter and the raptor's chagrin. "You're both equally at fault. . . Now, there has been a lot of Predacon activity up in the Gamma quadrant. I want you two to go and check it out then report back to me. . . Tomorrow morning."

"Scouting fine, I can handle—**tomorrow**! What the slag do you mean _tomorrow_!"

"We're not letting you back in once you leave until tomorrow. **And**," Optimus emphasized. "You have to stay together. We will be checking in on you randomly. If you're not together when we call, the scouting mission will be extended."

"And I thought you Maximals were opposed to cruel and unusual punishment."

"Optimus!" The rat-bot drew out a long, exaggerated whine. "You can't possibly do this to me! I'm too good to be Predacon food."

"As if I would ever be desperate enough to actually devour your vile body, Vermin!"

"Out both of you. Now!" Both bots were protesting all the way to the door and down the hatch. Their whines could be heard even through the Axalon's thick metal structure, and even as the two bots fled from the auto guns, which Optimus had so kindly turned on to give the two bots a motivated start.


	2. Chapter 2

Elsewhere, approaching the edges of Sector Gamma, two Predacons were settling their differences in a battle that lacked wits.

"Waspinator not like this plan, Megatron will find out! Waspinator be scrapped. Waspinator get scrapped enough already!" Sadly the wasp's antennae lowered against his head, like a sad puppy's ears, as he buzzed a whine.

His flyer companion's optics rolled at the insect's laments. "Relax, Megatron doesn't know a thing! He just thinks were up here mining for energon-"

"But is no energon here!"

"_Really _now. . ." Terrosaur's words dripped with sarcasm. Waspinator could be highly irritating at times. "Of course there's no energon here! But what that slaggin' tyrant doesn't know won't hurt us. . . We have an advantage, Megatron completely underestimates us-" The pterodactyl cut his speech short as he noticed the less intellectually-inclined Predacon spin in circles happily as he chased floating dandelion puffs. "Okay, so he underestimates **me**. He thinks we're the fools, so he won't suspect a thing!"

"But what if plan fails?"

_That's what you're here for. . . _The treacherous bot's thoughts luckily did not reflect in his words. "It won't, so long as you do everything that I tell you!"

"Waspinator want to be leader! Not butt kisser of Terrosaur!"

"Waspinator," Terrosaur drew the word out, as he often spoke when attempting to be manipulative. Unfortunately for Waspinator, he was the only bot such tactics actually worked on. "Do you want me to tell Megatron what you've been doing with his rubber ducky?"

A sad little _gulp_ noise quietly resonated from the green bot's audio unit. "Waspinator is shutting up now."

"Good. . . We're almost there!"

Diving down, the pair descended into a heavily wooded area. Ducking between dense clumps of tall trees, they made their way into a meadow clearing. Within the center of the clearing stood a large black cylindrical object that protruded from the earth. Dirt was scattered around the object's base, where the two had been working to dig it out of the ground, an effort which had yet to bring any avail to them. It seemed that it went down further into the soil than they had previously predicted.

Midair they transformed and landed upon their robotic limbs. "Okay, you know the drill, back to digging."

"Waspinator is sick of digging! Dig for spider-bot, dig for Megatron, now dig for **idiot**-bot!. . ." The wasp-bot continued to mumble and groan in an incoherent fashion even as he returned to the tedious chore while Terrosaur _stuper_vised

This current oddity most certainly had to be an alien devise, Terrosaur was sure of it. He was also sure that like the flying island and the standing stones, that this devise must surely have great powers. Powers that he would harness for himself and use to defeat Megatron. _This plan is absolutely brilliant_, he mentally congratulated himself, then sighed as he watched Waspinator's futile efforts.

Well it **would** be brilliant, once they figured out how the slagging contraption worked. He'd already pushed Waspinator against it, in the way that the green-bot had been thrown against the standing stones and activated them, but that did nothing. Then they tried to shoot it, well Waspinator had shot it while Terrosaur maintained a safe distance, but once again that did not affect the object either other than to chip a large chunk off the top.

"Dactyl-bot care to move his skid plate over here and work?" The harshly buzzed words drew the red-and-silver-bot out of his thoughts. When Terrosaur gazed over he was greeted with the sight of a grimacing insect-like face, the bug's hands upon his waist and his foot was tapping impatiently. "Waspinator is waiting. . ."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm coming. . ." There'd be plenty of time later to consider what to do with the powers, for the meantime, obtaining said powers was more important. Giving in, Terrosaur reluctantly began to dig as well.

"If we had a shovel this would be a lot easier. Primus, this sucks!"

oOoOoOoOo

"Well. . . This bites, chews, and swallows," the rat eloquently muttered the resentment that both bots were feeling towards their leader as they dredged on further away from the base in unaccustomed silence.

"Then disgorges and repeats."

Rattrap contemplated that idea a moment then shuddered a small, "eew."

The vermin's sound of disgust was a small victory that caused Dinobot to smile nastily. Point one for the previously-Predacon-point man. In their game of insults, the factor of who could disgust the other more had been added in as well. Consuming his own clone had kept Dinobot in the lead for quite a while, but recently Rattrap had been catching up with his peculiar eating habits and a few well placed TMIs about past oil changes. . .

Quietly the pair continued on.

They had traversed the majority of the rocky ledges and hills that comprised the mountainous region in which the Axalon had crashed. Soon they would be heading out into flat, dessert land that lead into savannah. It would take quite a few more cycles before they made their way into the forested Gamma Sectors.

_Man I hate being short_! Granted, Rattrap had always been a short bot, but being less than a half foot off the ground in his alternate mode was ridiculous. It was difficult to get around on such stubby little legs, not to mention trying to keep up with any of his comrades with more athletic beast modes. He was actually glad to be scouting with Dinobot rather than Cheetor (_lousy sprinter)_, or any of the other Maximals, if for nothing but the fact that the raptor was easier to keep pace with.

Glancing over at his stoic teammate, Rattrap wondered: was Dinobot really that lazy in beast mode, or was he slackening his own speed to meet that of the rat's? Anger consumed him for a nano-click, mad at the thought that old _Chopperface_ of all people would pity him, then he swallowed the animosity down. Rattrap knew Dinobot well enough to know that he would never do anything that he didn't want to (unless it was an order, and even then only after fighting over it), and that the concept of pity was located in a subdirectory of a subdirectory, within a very dusty folder at the back of his hard drive.

So what was it that made him act as he did?

"Say, uh. . . Chopperface?"

"What? Vermin."

Rattrap had been preparing to ask questions of a nature that he'd yet to ever attempt asking the former Predacon, but at the raptor's biting reply, his nerves abandoned him. Thus he pulled the following out of his waste disposal unit: "Who the heck is that Freud bot anyway?"

From the way the rat had been looking at him for the past few cycles, and the tone in his initial inquiry, Dinobot had been expecting to hear something other than what actually came out. The question caused him an embarrassed moment of pause, but quickly he recovered his poker face. "What nonsensical drivel are you inflicting upon my audio sensors?"

Rattrap repressed a groan of frustration. "You know exactly what I'm talkin' about! What the pussy cat said back at base-- what the heck was he goin' on about!"

"Oh, that insignificant piece of childish drivel. . . I, uh, haven't the foggiest of ideas."

Rattrap immediately stopped in his tracks, and rose to stand upon his beast mode's hind quarters, almost putting him at level with the raptor's head. . . If Dinobot ducked. "I don't think so! I saw your reaction; you was blushing like you'd just walked in on some kinky interfacing!"

"Fie! Warriors most certainly do **not **do such things as," the larger Maximal cringed at the thought of what he'd done earlier, then continued the clench-toothed lie, "blush, you little pestilence! And furthermore, would you kindly keep your vile past experiences to yourself!"

Cockily the rat smirked before rebutting. "Hmph, maybe _warriors_ don't, but you certainly did Scale-belly! I SAW! And aww, poor baby, am I corrupting the sweet sanctity of your _virgin processor_?"

"By the Pit, this is the last straw Rodent!"

Sometimes Rattrap didn't know to quit. As his optics widened with anxiety, watching the charging raptor, he realized that it had just been one of those times.

oOoOoOoOo

Noticing the stark silence that had fallen upon the Axalon after the twosome's departure, a smile of relief passed across Rhinox's features. Finally, he would be able to get some peace and quiet, he'd certainly earned it with how much time he'd been putting in around the base--getting the defenses all up and running, the scanners, better comnlink systems, basically any technological problem that arose. He resolved to himself that the moment his feet were back upon sweet Cybertronian ground that he would retire.

Getting over his momentary elation at the temporary peace, worry crept back up the rhinoceros' spine of steel. Though he knew that Rattrap was certainly no weakling and was more than capable of handling himself, Rhinox also knew that Dinobot was twice the rat's size and had twice the temper. Four gigs of aggression on a three gig hard drive, as he himself had once described the Predacon experience.

Rattrap was his best friend, and as a best friend it was one of his duties to keep secrets. . . even if they were things that he'd rather have not known in the first place. Shuddering at the thought, he wondered what on Earth Rattrap saw in the insubordinate ex-Pred in the first place.

Rhinox had always thought himself to be an easy going, patient bot. Rarely did he meet anyone that his intensely disliked. . . But rare certainly didn't mean never, for he'd met one alright! Moreover, was forced to serve side by side with him! As if that wasn't enough, he **then **had to suffer Rattrap's ramblings about said ill-favored nuisance. Heavily dropping his hands upon the desktop, not quite slamming them, he just sighed and shook his head.

It wasn't his place to dictate the small bot's emotions, he reminded himself. Perhaps he should give the raptor another chance to show his true colors. After all, he couldn't be that awful if Rattrap saw something redeeming in him, and the rat was far more judgmental of Predacons then he was (or so the rat claimed). Rhinox was just worried that Rattrap might say too much to Dinobot, and he couldn't imagine the raptor taking such news very well. . .

Just then, he was drawn away from his thoughts by Cheetor's comment:

"Hey, big green," he happily purred with a grin that was as close to sadistic as the kitten could muster. "How long have those two been gone? Maybe we oughta give 'em a ring and make sure they're still alive."

"Optimus did say to check up on them regularly," he conceded with a chuckle as he proceeded to push the comnlink button. "Base to Rattrap and Dinobot, do you copy?"

When he received nothing but static, Rhinox tried once again.

OOoOoOoOo

The two had found themselves sprawling on the ground in robot mode, both trying to get the upper hand when Rhinox's voice came through on both of their comnlinks.

"Slag," they both managed to mutter simultaneously. Noticing that they had spoken in unison, Dinobot glared up at Rattrap, who currently had the larger bot pinned to the ground.

"Jinx!" He chuckled before answering Rhinox, relieved have an excuse to end their sparring. "Hey Rhinox! Need somethin'?"

"_Just making sure you two are still functioning."_

"_Yeah," _the two heard Cheetor's enthusiastic voice come through as well. "_You haven't slagged Scale Face or anything, have you RT?"_

"He most certainly has not, Fur Ball!"

OOoOoOoOo

Halfheartedly pushing Cheetor away from the microphone, Rhinox breathed a sigh of relief. Granted, he hadn't expected turbulence so early in their excursion, but it was always good to get confirmation.

"Good, now get moving you two. You should be many more miles away from the base by now, stop dilly dallying."

"_This mission is a waste of all my countless talents! If you are so eager to go and beat a pair incompetents senseless then do it yourself, you base-confined sap."_

"I am NOT confined to the base!" Rhinox raised voice fell upon deaf sensors, for Dinobot had already cut their transmission off. Glancing over at Cheetor, Rhinox glared at the stupid grin upon his face. "Chee-"

"What!. . . Of course you leave the base! It's not your fault that every time you do something bad happens. If it were up to me, you'd kick the Preds skid plates all the time by using yours!"

Rhinox just shook his head with a wry look; he often wondered why he even bothered.

oOoOoOoOo

As their communication ended both bots breathed a sigh of relief. This really was a slag situation, but they'd both rather have Rhinox on the line than Optimus. For Optimus, being in the cruel mood that he was, may have given them even further orders! Neither of them wanted that in the least.

Becoming aware of the small gold-bot's weight atop of him, Dinobot forced himself to growl at Rattrap to get off of him. Truthfully, it wasn't a weight he minded being beneath. "Remove your foul hide from me at once, Vermin."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll spare ya for now. . ." As Rattrap began to push himself away from the downed Dinobot, he lost his footing on the cliff's slick slate and slipped, only to fall completely prone upon the larger bot. With their faces scant centimeters apart, red and crimson optics met, both a little shocked. Silently they stared, clicks seeming like endless stellar cycles.

Both were secretly shocked when the other did not try to kill him, rather they both got up and parted with a few uncomfortable coughs. "You heard Rhinox," Dinobot finally broke the apprehension in the air as he cleared his throat. "We'd best accelerate." With that Dinobot transformed back to beast mode and continued moving on, forgetting whatever it was that had prompted their fight in the first place.

Shaking his head in amazement, Rattrap converted back to beast mode as well and continued on behind Dinobot, not bothering to catch up, and, Rattrap ruefully realized, the raptor no longer bothered to slow down.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Thank you all very much for being so patient with me and for all the kind comments. I know it's been about a year since I last updated this. I was going through an odd time which I don't care to elaborate on and I'm sure that none of you care to hear about, so the real news is that I'm back into writing, back into this story and will most definitely be continuing it. The slash is not dead! I promise!

I have a hard time maintaining balance between the plot (which is really not important to the story at all, it's only a means to get my boys together), all of the cast, and the budding slash. The story, as a whole, is supposed to be about 2/3rds Rattrap and Dinobot and a 3rd other stuff and other characters. Please let me know at any point of the story starts to become too unbalanced either way for you!... Also, I require myself to write at least 2,000 words per chapter that I do, so if I'm slow that is why!

oOoOoOoOo

Fingers that had been curled around his smug chin moved to cover his grin, attempting to stifle laughter before any of his minions could hear. _Idiots_, he thought as he watched the monitor with amused boredom.

The whoosh of mechanical limbs approached his makeshift throne, alerting him to the ant's presence. "Your majesty," the wonderfully loyal psychobot began, "what is it that troubles you so? Say the word and they shall burn for eternity."

"Troubles me?" Megatron questioned, the laugh that had been trying to escape for the past half hour finally receded, conceding defeat for the moment. "Dear Inferno, what makes you think that something is _troubling me_?"

"Oh your fortitude is inspiring, my queen! Yet I saw you but a moment ago, and you were displeased. First covering your optics and shaking your head. If something is so awful that you, royalty, are too disgusted to watch, then lowly I cannot even imagine how awful it must be. I--"

The rubber waterfowl that collided with the dense drone's head effectively shut him up. "Fools. . . I am surrounded by them. . ." Megatron sighed to himself, lacking the energy to chastise Inferno further.

"Inferno, I will let you in on a little secret. Come here."

In what could almost be called shy reluctance, Inferno approached Megatron's seat cautiously. When he came to stand at the tyrannosaurus' side, the purple bot gestured to the video playing out on screen via one of the spy cameras that was mounted upon one of Megatron's many jamming stations. There, in all of its pixilated glory, were the nails in two traitors' coffins-- footage of Waspinator and Terrosaur at their newly found _alien artifact_.

"What are those drones doing?"

"It does not matter what they are doing, just what they _think _they're doing."

"That does not compute, your majesty."

Megatron sighed heavily before continuing. "Never mind. They are staying occupied and out of my way, that's all that matters."

Sadness passed over the red and silver bot's odd features. "Royalty, please never consider me burden enough to send me away on busy work. I want to do important tasks for you, to help the colony!"

"Of course not Inferno," he replied reassuringly. "Of course not. Now, the walls of the Darkside have become rather dull, I want the ship polished top to bottom. I want to be able to see my face shining in it by morning."

At the new orders, Inferno lit up with glee. "As you wish my queen," (1) he said prostrating himself before the Predacon leader. "I will not disappoint you." With that, Inferno hurried off to get started on his crucial quest.

As the fire ant made his determined way down the hall to find the custodial compartment upon the ship, he was stopped by the nervous clicking of claws. "Hey, where are you going ant? Did Megatron have any orders?"

Inferno curtly replied, "The royalty wishes the colony to shine with a radiance that befits such excellence."

Slowly the information moved through Scorpinok's processor. "So. . . He made you a maintenance bot?. . . .No wait, a mainten**ant** bot!" Heartily the scorpion bot laughed at his own word play.

In turn, Inferno scowled. "The royalty needs soldiers, not jesters." With that, he turned and continued upon his way; no one would stand between him and the completion of his mission.

Pinchers clacked and chattered a moment before the dim bot called after the ant, "hey wait up!" _Hmph,_ he thought to himself,_ I'll have the Darkside looking ten times cleaner than Inferno will, that will show Megatron who is truly the most loyal_.

When the Predecon elders were distributing processors, not all bots were given equal gigs. Megatron's loyal followers had about a floppy disk between them.

oOoOoOoOo

It was not only the Predacon leader who was appreciating the silence of a less filled base, Optimus delighted in having a pair of his soldiers out of his hard drive for a while as well.

Finally, he could read, write reports, study the still unknown planet they were on, try to find out more information on the aliens that seemed to have seeded said planet. . . The possibilities of uninterrupted activities available to him were endless! And yet. . .

Letting out a sigh, he laid the e-book upon his gorilla chest, giving up on reading for the time being. He was concerned for his teammates, in more than one respect. Trying not to think about the dysfunctional pair only kept them closer to his mind. Was it wrong of him to force them out on such an odd mission together? What if all of his hunches had been wrong and they truly did despise one another? If that were so then the mission was even doubly cruel.

Besides, regardless of how the two felt, what would one day change? They'd been able to keep their bickering up for nearly a stellar cycle now. It was foolish of him to assume that a little time alone would do anything. _Isn't this just prime_?. . .

Thoughts temporarily abandoned him, as saw the yellow spotted cat approaching in his peripheral vision. "Yes Cheetor?" He asked.

"Eh, nothing Big Bot, I'm just bored." Plopping down on his haunches, Cheetor sat by the captain's chair, hoping for an assignment or some form of entertainment. "Rattface and Dinobreath get to have all the fun today."

Optimus chuckled, "I really don't think that they're having much fun."

"I-I don't get it! What is up with those two? Always fighting, they're not **that** different."

_No, they're really more alike than either would ever admit, they'd probably be thoroughly disgusted if it ever even occurred to them. _"I don't have the answers to everything Cheetor."

"You don't?" Something small in the adolescent's voice sounded genuinely surprised.

Glancing down at the younger bot, it occurred to Optimus for the first time that the newer generation of Maximals, as human-culture influenced as they often tended to be, might have adopted the ethical aversion to same sex pairings.

Transformers were a race of beings that required no sexual reproduction and therefore had no argument for it being _unnatural_. Male bots had always outnumbered femmes. Moreover, if memory served him, the Maximal leader recalled hearing of a time when there were no female Transformers at all. So it had never made sense to Optimus why the gender traits of two bots should matter in the first place. All the wiring for _certain activities _was the same either way.

"Ya know. . ." Cheetor sighed. "I used to think it was funny how they were grinding each other's gears all the time, but. . . It doesn't seem the same anymore."

Optimus did recall that Cheetor, on one occasion, had said that's he wouldn't want the pair any other way. Everyone got sick of the tension, he guessed, even the easily amused adolescent bot. The pair had made the Axalon, as he'd heard it put before, _a hostile work environment_.

"Why don't they just get it over with and interface already?!" (2)

Optimus' processor nearly fell victim to the blue screen of death hearing such words come from his protégé. "Cheetor!"

oOoOoOoOo

The sun was beginning its slow decent in the sky, a typically pretty event but all the naturally beauty in the world could be damned as far as Dinobot was concerned. As it was, the accursed flaming ball was at precisely the right angle in relation to the earth to send a laser like glare, just at level with his raptor eyes. Initially, he had fought the glare, refusing to surrender, then slowly he caved in by squinting, ever so slightly at first, then increasingly. The sun proved a far more resilient competitor than the bot had hoped and eventually he conceded defeat and turned his gaze to the ground.

Normally Dinobot did not pick petty fights with stars, ones with a set orbiting planets or otherwise, and normally having to look down while walking was not too far an inconvenience either. Yet this day was not normal, for normally there was no rat astride beside him. Looking down to his right for too long made him dizzy, for one reason or another, and thus he was forced to stare down to the left, directly at Rattrap, the entire time. The very last bot that he cared to be staring at, if he lied to himself.

For his part, Rattrap was below the glare, and in the shadow of the taller Maximal so his optics were having no problems functioning. However, looking to his right made Rattrap uncomfortable as well, for an entirely different reason. He'd glance up periodically and find the raptor as he had left him, staring at him, silhouetted in bright sunlight that created a ridiculous haloing effect. To find anything at all about the ex-Predacon even remotely angelic was surely an act of sacrilege against Primus himself.

Having to concentrate so much on where to look and who was looking at him made focusing on the terrain a far more difficult task than it should have been. This was getting ridiculous, he'd been putting up with Dinobot's gaze boring holes into his hide for the past half a cycle. Finally, Rattrap had had enough.

"Take a screenshot, it'll last longer!" He spat, glaring directly up at Dinobot.

Dinobot's snapped explanation was far less defensive and drawn out than the type of reply that Rattrap had been expecting. "It was either go blind by the infernal sun or by looking at your grotesque form, and I chose the faster route, Rodent," he snarled lowly.

Glancing upwards Rattrap did take notice of the fact that the setting sun did cast a slice of blinding yellow sky across the horizon.

He felt a faint wave of what someone more innocent might have labeled at sheepishness as he muttered, "oh."

Studying the road up ahead, a dirt walkway that wrapped around a rocky mountainside, he noticed a small, shaded alcove in the cliff's side. As it was fast approaching, the rat glanced back up at Dinobot, who was once again back in the ring, going at round two with the glare and obviously weakening if his tight squint was any indication.

With a small nod to himself, Rattrap steeled his resolve and as they came to the niche, he stepped into its shaded shelter and plopped his fuzzy behind down. "Eh, I need a break."

He knew his plan would meet resistance, he more than expected it and he was determined not to be deterred by any of Dinobot's whining about moving forward or the dishonor in sloth. This was for his own good.

Dinobot stood awkwardly for a moment, glancing around himself, appearing to be a little lost. The little Maximal on his shoulder told him to listen to the rat, to rest for a while and not submit himself to such torture as walking into the sun. On the other shoulder, the little Predacon told him to move his sorry skid plate, to leave any weakness behind and continue on, regardless of Optimus' orders to stay with the rat and his own optic's ache which bid him to stay.

The two sides of himself had been fighting far more often with one another, and Dinobot was getting rather tired of it. The Maximal side said to set aside the differences he had with the rat, to admit his feelings, be friends, and to skip through a field of bunnies or whatever it was that Maximals did when their circuitry caught the incurable virus most often diagnosed as love.

His Predacon half told him to kill the rat, to slowly torture him in retaliation for inflicting the myriad of terrible, consuming emotions that he had never wanted to feel for anyone much less the pushy rodent. But it was also his Predacon half from which the aching lust stemmed.

Friendship, peace, love, hatred, violence, lust. The whole created by the halves wondered why he couldn't have all of those things… except perhaps the damned skipping rabbits, Rattrap was rodent enough for Dinobot.

"Just sit already, will ya Bronto-brain?"

Extracted from his daze, the raptor made sure to snarl at the rat before awkwardly lowering himself to the ground. The velociraptor, he concluded, was not anatomically designed for the action of sitting. As his skid plate made contact with the earth, Dinobot realized that standing would be far more problematic than the initial sitting had been. In the meantime, however, he would enjoy the rest, and the clear view of the blazing orange and coral sky.

Looking over at the relieved raptor, Rattrap smiled to himself. Once and a while doing a good thing wasn't so bad, so long as he made sure not to make a habit out of it. Being nice to the raptor had the possibility of becoming addictive and that would most definitely be harmful to his health.

Flexing his sore pink toes, he sighed. Muscles were a new thing, one that took a lot of getting used too. Transformers definitely felt physical pain, Rattrap knew that all too well, but the ache of a foot was far worse than that of a blown tire somehow. "Man, I miss having wheels," he muttered to himself. "Never in a million years would I expect my alternate mode to be a stinkin' animal."

"And such a _stinking_ one it is."

"Ey!" He was prepared to protest further, but out of the corner of his eye, Rattrap noticed the slightest of upward inclinations to the overgrown lizard's mouth. This was one of those rare occasions when the jesting was definitely in a joking manner.

"There are certainly more retched forms to have, Rodent," Dinobot continued, "though I am at a loss as to what they are. Your form at least regulates its own internal thermostat."

"I guess," Rattrap shrugged, not knowing what to say and not feeling that anything particularly needed to be said. In a silence that wasn't as awkward as Dinobot's sitting or as natural as the sun's glare, the two stayed.

Slothfully the colors of the sky changed, little by little. Orange turned to a deep, blood red that spilled onto the white clouds and stained them pink. Blood red like optics and two sparks energizing together in the dead silence of night. The sun's late afternoon anger was settling into dusk and the glare moved lower on the land till it was elsewhere on the earth. Neither bot moved.

As the sun lowered, the winds heightened, bringing a slight chill along with them. Rattrap noticed his traveling companion suppressing a small shiver. Drunk on the sky and the silence, Rattrap abandoned rationality and made his way to the raptor's side, sitting close enough that their flanks touched, fur pressing into scales.

"What in the Inferno are you doing, Vermin?" The quiet way in which the words were spoken betrayed their literal meaning.

Rattrap smiled the smile that he had yet to use since his arrival on this dirtball, the one saved for the femmes at sleazy little hole-in-the-wall joints, only a more sincere variation. "Regulating your thermostat."

If there was one thing about Primal that wasn't prime, it was his sense of timing. Before Dinobot had even had an opportunity to process, much less react to Rattrap's actions and words, the Maximal leader shattered the moment with his static filled communication.

"Are_ you two still alive_?"

"All extremities are present and accounted for," Dinobot muttered, after transforming to stand. "We have nearly reached the edge of the Gamma sector." To his side he heard the small noise of Rattrap transforming as well.

"Yeah yeah, we're alive, thanks for your concern." Sarcasm iced the words and dripped to their sides.

"_Rattrap, when you get back to base tomorrow we need to have a serious discussion about the language you've been teaching Cheetor lately, I don't approve_."

"Hey! He came out with the slaggin Freud thing all on his own! Sheesh!"

"_That's not what I'm talking about_" both bots heard him sigh through the intercom. Poor Optimus was a very stressed bot indeed. "_I'll see you later, good luck_."

Transforming back into their beast modes the two Maximals looked to one another, whatever mood that had been struggling for life just moments ago had been extinguished.

"To the Pit, Primal," Dinobot muttered at which rattrap let out a short laugh of surprise.

"Ditto, Dinobutt."

oOoOoOoOo

(1) Sorry, I just couldn't help myself. I'd written the plot to have Inferno go polish the ship, then it reminded me of the Princess Bride exchange between Wesley and Buttercup, so I changed the quotes to be almost directly from that movie. Just paying a little homage.

(2) Raisedbymoogles wrote on the LJ mechaerotica community a great Dinobot x Rattrap PWP called Give Me All You Got. In it everyone, both Maximal and Predacon, was completely aware of the sexual tension between Dinobot and Rattrap except for poor little Cheetor. So some sick part of my brain thought it'd be funny to make him be the first to come out and say "why don't they just f-- already!" Because children saying ridiculously inappropriate things is hilarious.


End file.
